Painfully Good
by KusmiTea
Summary: Tate and Violet are apart for five years now, but love is still toying with their minds. Is Violet able to forgive him or at least love him as much as she did before? And will Tate overcome himself? The Murder House can have a few tricks on its sleeves.
1. Promises, promises

**Hi!**

**This story has been fluttering in my mind for a while now, and I thought I'd give it a shot!**

**So, let's see how you, guys, like it and then I'll update more.**

**Thanks for your time and enjoy (:**

**(Reviews are ALWAYS AND FOREVER welcome)**

**AHS is not mine, but I wish it was, though. **

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><p><strong>Painfully Good<strong>

**One: Promises, Promises**

She felt the weight of the razor in her hand, twisting it over and over again; the last strokes of the sun kissing it ever so lightly making it flicker with light and go pale again. Violet didn't know what time it was, except that a new and dull day was coming to an end again. She was long past the time of wondering what had become of her because all the answers were already given: she was more lovingly with her parents, a good older sister for a never aging baby, a broken and twisted teen who killed herself because of too much information and emotions towards a boy, a girl who waited for that same boy and still swore to never let him near her.

Violet was tired of not feeling when she wasn't around her family. She stopped moving the razor and held it inches from her left wrist. It touched briefly her skin and she pressed it harder, letting be swept by the pain, of feeling her own blood drop by drop leave her; it was a good feeling, sad and yet made her whole. Violet let out a sigh for she didn't know she was holding her breath.

"You promised to never do this again" a voice said from behind her. She turned around and saw Tate leaning against the door frame of her bedroom.

A question died in her lips. "When I was alive, now I'm _dead_." His face quickly twisted in a grimace with her last word but went to his usual blank expression again, "And you broke your promise too."

"What promise, Vi?"

"That you'd never hurt me, because you don't do that to those you love. Maybe you didn't love me at all." She finished in a whisper while sliced her wrist once more and a smile of relief swam in her face. And his mouth turned into a thin line.

"You're all I ever wanted and I'd never hurt you. I never did." He had a frown in his face; his blonde hair disheveled almost touching his eyes.

Violet let out a small bark of laughter, what a joke he was. "You are such a hypocrite, Tate. You raped my mother and killed her because of your baby, perhaps it was indirectly but you did hurt me bad. How could you forget that?" she almost yelled.

"I didn't. And I wasn't in love with you at that time, I was doing a favor to Nora, you know it since you talked to her. And you understand her dilemma. But I never broke my promise when we were in love, I never hurt you since then."

"My mom died, you piece of shit."

"Violet, I turned back my own words with Nora when she said I had to take your brother away from you because I love you. Please, Vi. I'm sorry you mom died, I really am…" His beautiful face was in pain she could see. Tate's eyes were bloodshot and fresh tears kept falling on his cheeks leaving a glimmering trace on his face. "Can't you forgive me? It's been five years."

"I think I told you to go away." She murmured looking right into his eyes. Five year had been and she had overcome the fact that he had played a major role in her life; she had loved him until the very end and yet a part of her still loved him no matter how guilty she felt. Her heart was as cold as ice, but in the inside it was still beating for him, strongly and vividly. Violet tried to forgive him, however whenever she succeeded a bit, hatred washed over her and was like poison in her veins, burning every sign of pity and love for him.

He took a step closer and locked his arms above his chest, "This is the farthest I'm coming. I'm not going to hurt you, Violet. Remember? I love you. You are all I have." Tate wiped his face clear and a ghost of a smile played on his lips. He still felt so much for her and would want nothing more than to kiss her and hold her in his arms right now. She meant his entire self destroying life, she was his purpose for living his dead life.

"Fine, then." She mumbled and let her gaze fall to the razor she was holding. Another cut and… Voilá! The feeling of pain mingled with love and hatred towards Tate made her eyes water and her mind shut down. Her whole world now consisted of savoring the blood driving out of her.

A hand shook the blade away from her and held her shoulders strongly. She could feel the sweet scent that oozed from him, musky and deadly. And yet, a glimpse of anger flashed in her mind. How dare he?

"Tate!" Violet struggled with his hands, tainting her bed with red and with that both of their clothes. "I told you to _go away_! GO AWAY!" She closed her eyes and waited, but nothing happened, he was still there hovering above her and pressing the sleeve of his sweater against her freshly made cuts.

"Don't you love me anymore? Is that why you are hurting yourself again?" his voice was hoarse and pained and loud, almost screaming at her. He was deeply disturbed by her behavior, perhaps she lied to him like everybody else, perhaps she wasn't a trustworthy person, or perhaps she was attracted to the darkness as much as he was attracted to the light. He didn't know, and it disturbed him. But right now he worried about her bleeding wrists, she wasn't going to die in his arms again.

His questions froze in her brain and she couldn't find the answer within her; she loved him, a part of her at least. But would this part overcome the rest? Her pain and the burden of having your own boyfriend rape your mother, with the fact that he killed several kids just like them? And if it did overcome everything, would it be enough for them for eternity?

"I-I-" her tongue was fighting with her words, diverting the topic would be very much safer., she thought. "Stop it, Tate. Leave me be!" Violet finally managed to get out of his vice-like grip and went near the door.

"ANSWER ME, VIOLET!"

His voice triggered something inside her and anger slashed free now. She could feel that his eyes were full of sadness mixed with anger and impatience; he was a slip from being completely out of control. And Violet could feel the sweet flavor of hurting him already in her mouth, "I hate you, Tate." His face became a still mask, the cloud of anger and crazy looking grimace slipped to a marbled expression with his sweet little mouth popping open with an audible sound.

And as swift as a summer rain, his mood also changed. "No, no, no. You're confused. Yo-You don't hate me, do you? You didn't mean it, right, Vi?" His face was pure disbelief. Doubts and tears poured out of him and filled his eyes completely. Tate moved near her and cupped her face with his hands leaving a smear of her own blood. "You- I- I… No, please."

Then he pressed his lips against hers. And all her will to hurt him was shoved aside when their lips met, the fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach returned after five years and she could taste him, only him. While Tate tried to pass everything he felt for her by his kiss, his own soul was into it, melting on her soft lips and molding itself the way she liked. He loved her with all his might and would forever love her, his Violet.

She tangled his hair in her hand while he traced her spine gingerly. They could taste Violet's blood, but it didn't matter at the moment. They were together now, as if nothing had ever happened: no lies, no omissions, no hatred nor fear, only the love that held them together for that instant. A love so pure and thin the scissor of Fate could cut it, and so it did when they caught their breath.

"No, Tate. I told you to go away." Violet heard she saying, but didn't take hold of the meaning of her words. Her eyes were glued to his lips and guilt and sadness emerged from the depth of her brain. "You hurt me too much."

Violet let the door ajar and went to sit on her bed, holding tight her knees against her body. It was all too much. Everything with Tate was unbelievable overwhelming and emotionally tiring. She had healed during these past five years, but now as freshly as her new cuts were, she had brand new gashes in her heart and shattered feelings for him. She sighed and looked to where he was, but Tate was already far away.


	2. Baby baby boy

**Hello!**

**Thank you for reading this and here is the new chapter - I hope you like it.**

**Now, review so I can know what you think about it and if I should change anything. **

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><p><strong>Two: Baby baby boy<strong>

Tate was in the basement, sitting next to the crib of the little child who slept peacefully. He went there often enough, when neither Nora nor Vivien were pampering the boy; he liked being near him, watching his small chest going up and down while he breathed. It was comforting and somewhat a tingle to his brain, a reminder of joy.

Whenever he was there, Tate thought of Violet and her future: how she could have moved out with her family and never seen him again, they could have ended right there, but now they were both stuck in this damned house for as long as the world permitted. She would have a beautiful life, perhaps not bright but interesting enough not to fall into routine and boredom, Violet and a fling, not a husband - never a husband. She would have those dark and twisted boyfriends just like him, but none of them being fucked up like he was, and they would be happy as long as their relationship lasted. Maybe she could eventually adopt some child and teach him not to smoke – only to have her infant mocking at her for doing exactly the opposite -, a beautiful smart child and her, his long lost Violet but nonetheless still his only real love.

He scratched the back of his head and looked at the baby boy. What a sad little thing he was, so small and fragile, never being able to develop into a toddler and learn new things; he would always be this baby thing, always sleeping and smiling innocently. But it was good, though. This boy would never learn malice and evil, he'd always see the pastel colors of life and happiness.

Tate sighed and more often than not, wondered about his impossible future with Violet. He could have tricked her and they could both have taken the pills and 'died', he wouldn't have to lie to her, not completely, and they would be together forever and still loving each other. A long eternity, but not so painful.

His brain, however, teasing his private and most hidden flaws, switched to the darkest corner of his thoughts, and the simple remembrance of what he stole of Violet filled him with anger; he broke her in every single way; they couldn't have kids now, they couldn't enjoy a normal life - they never would in either way - and the feeling of greediness of possessing her ashamed him, because this was his major failure in life: he was so in love with her that he made her commit suicide. He killed her with his love.

A golden lock fell on his eye whilst a tear escaped and made way on his skin. Tate thought of himself so bad, he was evil and in love, he only caused pain to others and especially to Violet. A sob waved his chest and more tears kept moistening his face. Why couldn't he be normal, he asked silently to the invisible force gluing them to this house.

"Crying again, murderer?" Chad said in an amused tone, awaking Tate from his reverie. He turned around to see his mocking smile and folded arms. That man was always disturbing him, he was the penitence imposed by himself.

"What do you want?" he spat angrily.

"Oh, nothing." Chad licked his lips and moved to stay next to the crib; he stretched his arms and touched the tip of the nose of the baby. A faint smile played in the child's features but he continued to sleep. "I just wanted to check _my _baby."

Tate rolled his eyes, "He's fine, you've seen it. Now go." But Chad ignored him and kept talking absently.

"He's not yours, you know?" he looked inquisitively to him and stifled a laugh. Tate nodded without seeing, focusing at the edge of the crib, it was painful to admit it over and over again for the past five years. The baby that he loved with all his will wasn't even his, it couldn't have ever passed as Violet's and his. "Good for him." Chad finished with a smirk.

"Excuse me?"

"You know it,_ Tate_. One could never have you as a father and be normal, and if this baby was indeed yours by blood, he would be as twisted as that Infantata … thing. Or maybe even worst than it." Chad tickled the sleeping boy faintly and a low and pure laugh could be heard, the baby boy was awake now. "Rumors had it that your son is the Antichrist, but I think it is a compliment for you."

Tate pushed the queer annoying man to the wall and heard a satisfying crunch coming from his head. Then, he turned him around and locked his right arm under his chin, almost suffocating Chad. "Shut up."

A gasped laugh escaped Chad's mouth, "And what are you going to do? Kill me again?" And suddenly he could breathe, Tate's arm was down to his side. Chad touched his head and felt a warm liquid wet his hand.

A long silence followed them and Tate groaning returned to his spot near the crib. He wanted to hold the baby, but didn't know how to, so afraid he was of breaking the little thing. He watched his tiny mouth open in what was his smile and felt himself a bit less gloomy. Chad, on the other hand, moved with practiced expertise; lifting the baby boy and cooing to him. For a brief moment, Tate regretted killing him, because Chad would definitely have been a great father.

Without bearing the emptiness of sound any longer, Chad murmured, "I never thought Nora would fit to be a mother. She just wanted the baby to show off, but she doesn't have anybody to do so…"

"Whatever." Tate really wasn't on the talkative mode, all he wanted was to watch the baby and pretend it was his and Violet's, just for a little while to pretend that it was alright. But now, Chad was holding it and mumbling something nasty and not less true. He cleared his throat and made an effort to speak politely and with manners, "I mean, maybe she was lonely. We all get lonely here eventually."

Chad snorted lousily, making the baby cringe, "Ops, sorry about that little boy… Well, this coming from the guy who ruined my life and is lonely since forever. Fair enough, you have a point at least. But I think – and I bet you do to –, Nora wanted the feeling to be a mother, to see if she actually could be the perfect wife in society's eyes which she failed. She wanted a perfect baby, just like…"

"Constance, I know. My mother loves her children in her own way. It may be twisted and cruel, but in the end she cried when I and all my other siblings died. I don't love her, far from that, but I admire her love – even though she never truly loved me."

"Even tears can be faked, Tate." muttered Chad, carefully putting the baby on the crib. He was dozing again apart from their voices. "But, from what I heard you were her 'perfect' son, weren't you?"

"Not like that. Physically I was, while my mind was fucked because of her negligence and cruelty."

"We all get fucked one day – both literally and figuratively. Only one lasts for a long time and the other doesn't." Chad had a sardonic smile spread on his face and Tate knew some snarky remark was coming, he embraced himself for it expecting such with a frown.

"Don't you think it's ironic?" Chad continued, "You and I stuck here with the only person we showed our real selves, and unable to be loved by them? You did this to me, and then because of your own nature made sweet young Violet hate you. It must feel like arsenic in your veins."

"She doesn't hate me." Tate spat.

"Right. I must be out of date then, because last time I checked hate means antipathy not love." Chad's frames were twisted in revenge, his dark brow arched in a mocking way with the right corner of his lips up in a crooked smile. He was an evil snake, gliding through empty spaces and sprinting on its prey with his venom already spilling out.

"She is confused, she just needs some time." He looked straight into Chad's eyes.

"It's been five years. Grow up and accept it's over, forever is longer than you think to wait." He seemed pensive, "Hide now. She won't want to see you here." And Chad was gone with the cool breeze that entered the basement through the open door; a silhouette could be seen against the light from the corridor, but not distinguished. Tate, however, listened to Chad's advice and molded in the shadows – a sense of self preservation that evaded his being also made him embrace the darkness of the dim-littered corner.


End file.
